


Lay Us Down

by galaxbee



Series: Little Dragon Age Fics [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (Lay us down; we're in love), Colemance, Dragon Age Quest: In Your Heart Shall Burn, I wrote this at 10pm have mercy on my shipper soul, Other, P!ATD song lyrics are perfect for titles, Post-In Your Heart Shall Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:19:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5896126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxbee/pseuds/galaxbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You're Cole, right? You saved us, back at Haven. And me, afterwards. Thank you.”</p>
<p>The Inquisitor remembers the feeling of falling, their stomach falling from their body as they land with a jolt. They remember a tugging energy, pulling at the veil with the mark until it tore. They remember walking through snow, hoping more than anything to find someone, anyone, for light and warmth and rest. They remember Cole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Us Down

Cole lifts his head from gazing at Chancellor Roderick as a cry of pain sings out for anyone to hear; not that anyone could, except for himself. He stands in a smooth movement and twists through the space between him and the hurt, catching the Inquisition's herald as they finally fall. He slings their arm around his shoulder and lifts their legs with his other, their delicate frame light enough to carry even with the limpness of their fatigue. Cole adjusts the arm under their shoulders to quiet the song, the warmth from his body lessening the numbing cold.

He begins walking through the snow, glancing at the camp below him warily. If the people there were to see him, the Herald could be in danger; he can’t help them if he is taken away from them. He brushes against the minds of those in the camp, requesting that they forget both him and the limp figure in his arms, and they allow it. The memories are cast aside with a practised ease, even with the realness of the Herald.

Cole lays them down in the spare cot in the medical tent and he begins moving through the camp, requesting assistance before leaving only the imprint of a requirement, gathering spare blankets and plants for salves. Mages and healers alike begin tending to the Herald, warming limbs touched by frost and easing the shivers wracking their numb body. Cole returns to his vigilance over Chancellor Roderick, but not before removing himself from the Herald’s mind, too.

* * *

The Herald becomes the Inquisitor, asked to fill a role they don't understand for something Cole doesn't comprehend. He continues his assistance of the healers and the patients, soothing hurts and providing relief that nobody quite recalls. They are scared of him, and he's afraid of what will happen if he stays in their minds, ensnared in their songs. It isn't who he is.

Cole stiffens in shock as his mind brushes against a searching one, trying to find… him? There's a sense of light and happiness before a slight shadow falls over the ground in front of him, and he looks up to see the Inquisitor gazing down at him with an appreciative smile.

“You're Cole, right? You saved us, back at Haven. And me, afterwards. Thank you.”

The Inquisitor remembers the feeling of falling, their stomach falling from their body as they land with a jolt. They remember a tugging energy, pulling at the veil with the mark until it tore. They remember walking through snow, hoping more than anything to find someone, anyone, for light and warmth and rest. They remember Cole.

"Biting cold, crisp and encasing, then warmth, surrounding, soothing, saving me from the snow. Stitches on skin, armour pressed against fabric and burning numbness. You weren't supposed to remember!"

Cole isn't new to stress or panic, but the Inquisitor wasn't meant to remember, it's all gone wrong because he doesn't deserve to be remembered, he just wanted to help! He could become unraveled, undone, his help snatched away to be used as bait in snares. He isn't real enough to be remembered, for them to want to remember, he should just make them-

And then the Inquisitor sits down, mimicking his crossed legs and ducked head. They take his hands, gently, coaxing the fingers out of the clenched fists, the pads of their fingers smoothing out the crumpled fabric of his hand wraps and brushing aside the dirt caught in them. They smile reassuringly, eyes meeting his. They're bright, their song happy through the pain permeating it.

The Inquisitor says simply, "It's okay, Cole. I'm not going to hurt you."

“But- why didn't it work?” Cole’s voice is frantic, echoing the agitation of his thoughts.

“I'm not sure. The Anchor’s tied to the Veil, and the Fade itself. Maybe that has something to do with it?” the Inquisitor suggests, before smiling bashfully, “But I'm glad I didn't forget.”

At that statement, Cole feels like he's falling, but he doesn't particularly mind.


End file.
